


i will make a desert of you

by gon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, dark!Doctor, post-The Angels Take Manhattan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gon/pseuds/gon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could destroy, you know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will make a desert of you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [i will make a desert of you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121649) by [whynothulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynothulk/pseuds/whynothulk)



> Sort of Dark!Doctor.  
> Inspired by one of the deleted scenes from The Angels Take Manhattan. Set post TATM.

_Tell your friends! Tell all the Angels, Next time I see you, I will grind you into sand. I will make a desert of you!_

 

_Doctor, stop it!_

 

_No!_

 

* * *

 

"I could destroy, you know." 

 

His mouth contorts into a twisted smile. His eyes are deep set and green as ever, but there's something different behind them. Not insanity—well he's always been insane—but an appetite and lust for blood, for revenge. He wants to ruin. Just as he's been ruined. 

 

"Of course I know. We all know." River spreads her arms wide. _We_ being of course, the universe.

 

"Just for the fun of it? Did you know that?" He rolls a thread into a ball with his thumb and index finger then flicks it across the console room. "I can." 

 

She just stands there, hand on hip like an exhausted mother. 

 

"You wouldn't even know. What I'd done, that is. It would be a passage in history books. Archaeologist you, probably couldn't tell the difference between a massacre and a volcanic eruption had it happened at the hands of me."

 

He turns his head and smiles. Wrinkled eyes and dimpled grin. Malice written all over. 

 

* * *

 

"Why'd you tell her to go?", he asks casually. 

 

It's been three months since Manhattan. 

 

"I didn't _tell_ her to go, I simply urged her. She went because she wanted to." River doesn't even look up from the console. 

 

This infuriates him. It makes his hearts drop into his stomach and his lungs drain of air. He walks over to her.

 

"You begged. She still left." Emotions are bleeding through. Her words are less careful than usual. She's not watching what she's saying and she's choosing her words poorly. They cut into the Doctor's veins like teeth. She delivers them with a jealous edge. "She chose Rory." 

 

He's still silent. Mulling her words over. 

 

She continues, "You can't just pick up and borrow people out of their lives then return them when you're done." 

 

He rivals her with less words and more spite. 

 

"I'll never be done with Amy." And he walks away.

 

* * *

 

"Have you ever heard of Weeping Angels?" A woman asks. She's tall and ginger, with freckles dotting her face like constellations. Her Scottish accent is light and flows in and out of her words as it pleases. 

 

"I have, yes. A very very long time ago. They're extinct now. Or so I hear."

 

"Yes, I've heard that too. Something about an ancient man with a time machine on a revenge kick!" She giggles and clutches her stomach. "Oi, I don't really know how I knew that." 

 

The man pushes his own bright red hair out of his face, and his blue eyes twinkle like diamonds. 

 

"Memory can be a funny thing. Anyway, tell me more about these Weeping Angels." he presses with curiosity. 

 

"I remember a story…a myth really, about them. How a man made them all crumble and pulled his beloved out of the ruins. I don't know how I remember that. The story I mean." 

 

He pulls her in for a kiss. She's breathless against his mouth and there are tears on her cheeks. She can't tell whether she's happy or sad. She decides she doesn't care and wraps her hands around his wrists. His mouth opens willingly to hers and judging from his pulse, she can feel two heartbeats. 

 

"But I don't really believe in stories." And her eyes open wider and feel clearer than they have in centuries. Which is impossible because she can't be older than twenty three. 

 

"Gotcha." 

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear the man and woman at the end are Amy and Twelve.


End file.
